


May The Dread Wolf Take You

by mialuv889



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Attempted Rape/Non-Con, F/M, will add other characters as they appear
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-18
Updated: 2018-08-05
Packaged: 2019-05-24 20:18:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 10,997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14961495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mialuv889/pseuds/mialuv889
Summary: My take on Lavellan/Solas Relationship. This is an experiment in non-linear/linear storytelling. Let me know if it works for you or not. Rating updated for mild sexual content.Chapter 10: They had made it fairly far into the wood when they heard the wolves off in the distance. Their long mournful howls bathed the dark woods with their songs. The swell of the foreboding calls sent shivers up her spine. Something was wrong.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Where it Begins, and, yet, not.

It was his eyes and the impressions of his face she remembered more than his words when they first met. He felt familiar some how, yet she knew she’d never seen nor spoken to him before. The only thing that stayed with her from that moment is his name and the way it lift from his lips when he spoke it.

_Solas._

She felt small compared to him, if she was at all honest. There always seemed to be an absence of warmth when he was around. At least, at first. As one of the Dalish, she usually felt a camaraderie with others like her. But the truth was he didn’t feel like one of the Dalish and certainly not one of the City Elves.

_He felt older._

Her eyes were the thing that spoke to him most of all. The only survivor of the conclave explosion and she bore his anchor, not Corypheus. It didn’t take much convincing from Seeker Cassandra to keep him there. Just hearing the stories about her and how she’d walked out of the Fade and survived. But that wasn’t what stayed with him even now.

_It was her eyes._

She was barely conscious when they brought her in and tied her to the chair. Her head lulled from side to side as she struggled to stay awake. Briefly, their gazes met. Even in the dim light of the torch lit room he saw the dull green of her eyes. Like unripe olives picked in their infancy. They were unremarkable, and, yet, something about them pulled at him.

_Like a dream he’d long forgotten._


	2. Of Arrogant Elves and Wolves

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A moment in the Hinterlands reveals much and hints at hidden and new feelings.

It was HUGE. Cassidhe considered the statue far longer than she should have. The ruins they’d stumbled upon were remarkable in their own right, but the statue, tucked away in the ruined tower, grabbed her attention like nothing else.

“What’s got your attention, Cat?”

Varric sidled up next to her. Neither him nor Cassandra had been as eager to explore the surrounding area as Solas and her had been. Usually Cassidhe would consider it a quirk of their shared Elven heritage, but she knew better.

Cassidhe glanced over at him, a crooked smile hanging on her lips. Then she glanced behind him to the Apostate lingering just inside the crumbling walls enclosing the afore mentioned giant stone figure.

“It kinda looks like him, doesn’t it?”

Varric hummed, his own eyes seeking out the Apostate, and touched his chin thoughtfully.

“I mean, you can’t really tell like this,” she continued, “but if we got him proper mage robes and a cowl to go with, he’d be a dead ringer for Thelm here.”

Varric nodded his head in agreement. “I can see it.”

Solas rolled his eyes and did his best to look offended, but Cassidhe caught the slight tilt of his mouth as he tried not to smile. “I’m offended.”

A bark of laughter forced it’s way out of her mouth. “No, you’re not. You’re flattered!” And she was right. The smile he was fighting, finally won out as he turned away from them and headed out.

“There are worse things to be compared to than ancient forgotten gods.” He called over his shoulder.

“Well, shit,” Varric cursed next to her as he shook his head. “I think you just made him _more_ arrogant.”

Cassidhe couldn’t help the laughter that rolled out of her as the two of them followed after Solas. Only a few weeks had passed since she’d wakened up in Haven, the mark still on her hand and a new titled attached to her name. The Herald of Andraste. When she’d taken the mission to spy on the conclave, this was the last thing she’d expected to step into.

So far it was a mixed bag. She wasn’t sure how she managed to keep up with everything. It was hard to process everything at once and she wondered when it would finally become all too much. What would be the straw that would finally break the Herald’s back?

Still, there was much to be thankful for. Cassidhe smiled to herself as she hanged back slightly and watched Varric and Solas walk ahead of her to where Cassandra stood watch as the three of them explored the ruins. There were worse people to be thrown together with.

 

The sun set not long after the group returned to camp. Always the loner, Solas sequestered himself from the group, finding a nice dark spot from which to watch the others from. It was his habit to watch and learn from those he found some sort of companionship with.

In his experience, most everyone was predictable. Patterns were easy to pick up and few people ever deviated from them. His current companions seemed no different. Except…

His gaze swept over the camp dismissively until it settled on the Herald. She laughed easily at one of Varric’s jokes and then laughed even harder at Seeker Cassandra’s visible disgust. The light of the campfire highlighted her dark red hair, making it look closer to the color of blood than the dark auburn it was during daylight.

Once again, he was hit with a feeling of familiarity. Then it was gone. Fleeting as the feeling was, it threw him every time. At first, he struggled to recapture the feeling, but the more he tried to recall it, the further away it receded from his mind. Finally, he decided it was best to let be. Whatever it was would come around to him eventually.

Instead, he focused on the girl and watched passively. Her patterns were not as obvious as those around her. The complexity and subtlety she demonstrated impressed him. For the first time in over a year, he found himself giving pause. The world he’d woken up in seemed so muted and bland. A far cry from the world he left behind as he walked the Fade.

The colorless landscape, a mixture of dreary grays and matte finishes, was slowly starting to come alive the more he came to know of her. He remembered her eyes when they first met. The unremarkable dull green. In a world of gray, that alone was enough to capture his attention.

He was curious of her. More curious than he’d ever been of anyone before. Was it because of his anchor? Or was it something else? He couldn’t be sure. If he’d met her before all his plans went awry, it would be easier to tell. But, as it stood, he was hard pressed to be sure.

She was every inch the Dalish Elf. From the bright blue Vallaslin of Andruil adorning her face, the complexity of the design illustrating her high endurance for pain, to the skill she showed when stalking her prey, both human and beast. He’d seen what exactly the girl was capable of since coming to the Hinterlands. Calling her simply skilled was a vast understatement. Yet, he saw a complexity in her far beyond any other Dalish he’d met. She was full of subtlties and contradictions.

It boggled the mind to think any Dalish was capable of such a feat. Solas shook his head, free himself from the thoughts and turned his attention to the present.

 

After everyone finished eating, Cassidhe took her leave, stealing off into the night to have one last gander at the ruins in Calenhad’s Foothold. She wanted to explore more earlier, but both Cassandra and Varric seemed more keen to leave. So the group hadn’t lingered. As it was, the idea of exploring at night, on her own, held far more appeal anyways.

Slipping away wasn’t hard. The small detail of guards that usually accompanied them were used to the Herald’s more eccentric habits and played them off as just another quirk of the Dalish girl. As a practiced hunter, she used her skills to move through the darkened forest and found she wasn’t the only one who wanted to see more of the ancient ruins.

Really, she shouldn’t have been surprised to find him there. He talked frequently of the places he visited in the Fade while asleep and even confessed to actually sleeping in ruins and other such places just so he could explore them in his dreams.

She moved silently until she was almost upon him. He didn’t seem aware of her at all until he started talking.

“I guess I’m not the only curious one here.” He spoke, then turned to look at her. “Your curiosity seems as great as my own.”

Cassidhe smiled. “I was often scolded when I was little for wandering off where I wasn’t supposed too.”

He chuckled softly and turned his attention back to the largest tower of the ruins. “I would be lying if I didn’t admit to the same.”

Cassidhe moved to stand beside him, only a foot or so of empty space between them. “I’m shocked, Solas!” Her sarcasm was palpable in the cool, humid air. “You don’t at all seem the type.”

The light of the moon was bright and did nothing to hide the smile hanging on Solas’ lips. “Are you teasing me, Da’len?” He glanced over at her and she felt her cheeks warming slightly under his scrutiny.

“I might be…” Her words trailed off as she turned her body slightly away from him, feigning a curiosity in the foliage to the side of them. Apparently, her flirting hadn’t gone unnoticed.

She felt, more than saw him turn towards her, his voice softer, but closer than it had been.

“It seems to happen more and more frequently these days. Am I to take it as a good thing?”

Her heart raced in her chest. She wasn’t sure if it was because he figured out her little game, or if there was something else dithering beneath the surface of her emotions. A nervous laugh forced it’s way past her lips.

“Maybe…” She trailed off again, not sure now how to respond. Her feelings, where Solas was concerned, were becoming more and more complicated.

At first, she actively avoided him whenever possible. More times than not, she felt like her pride as a Dalish was openly mocked by him. She felt small when she stood next to him and stupid in the face of his vast knowledge. She couldn’t argue with him either. He knew so much more than her and his confidence was unmatched by anyone else she knew.

Being around him in the first few weeks of the newly instated Inquisition reminded her of her early childhood and the isolation she experienced. She touched a hand to her shoulder, unconsciously feeling for the familiar indentations on her skin. The scars marked her more than the Vallaslin on her face.

“I’m sorry if I made you uneasy.”

Solas’ voice cut through her wandering thoughts. He was more thoughtful these days than he had been before. She wasn’t sure why.

“No!” She quickly denied his assumption. “I was just lost in thought. You did nothing wrong.” She bowed her head towards him in apology.

“Your shoulder, does it bother you?” He tilted his head as his gaze slipped from her face and down to her left where her hand still lingered. “You touch it frequently, almost unconsciously.”

“Oh.” Another blush quickly made it’s way over her cheeks, another nervous laugh lifting from her lips. “I-It’s nothing really! Just an old scar from childhood.”

“A scar?” His right eyebrow quirked up curiously. “Does it hurt?”

“No! I’m just overly conscious of it. I’ve had it since I was three.”

“Can I see it?”

“W-what?” Her voice pitched high at his innocent question. The look on his face was similar to when he studied the mark on her hand. Obviously he was curious. Insatiably so. She hesitated to answer. Memories of being openly mocked stealing to the front of her mind.

She pushed the memories aside as she tugged at the collar of her tunic, revealing the perfect half circle bite mark decorating her shoulder. He flinch at the sight of it.

 

  
“A bite mark?” He reached up to touch the fade scars. It was obviously very old, but still prominent against the alabaster of her skin. The impressions of teeth were too prominent, too perfect, meaning it had been deep.

He gripped her shoulder gently, turning her slightly as he checked the back of her should and sure enough there was a corresponding set of teeth marks there as well. The patterns were canine.

“A wolf?” He asked absently and hummed when she nodded her in answer.

“ _Fen Esha’lin_.” The words lifted from her lips and stole away in the night. _Wolf Child_.

His heart clenched, knowing those same words were likely used against her. To mock her as a child. Wolves are feared among the Dalish. Being marked as she was, it wasn’t hard to guess what she went through growing up.

“ _Thu garem_?” A deep sigh passed from her lips, her shoulders tensing slightly beneath his fingers.

“I’m not sure exactly. I don’t really remember it. I was only three at the time.”

Solas frowned. “Was it that bad?”

Cassidhe’s eyes widened, then relaxed into a smile. “No. Not really.” She laughed as Solas frowned at her.

“It’s…weird. This is the story that got passed around as I grew up. _Babaela_ told it best. I was three and had wandered off one day. Always the wandering soul, he would say. It took three days, but _Babaela_ was the one who found me. I was safe and sound and wrapped up cozily with a wolf.”

She paused for a moment, a sad smile touching her lips. “Apparently I was quite content to stay were I was. _Babaela_ said it was only at the wolf’s urging that I even extracted myself from it’s embrace.”

He felt the waves of sadness as they rolled off of her. “You don’t remember any of this?”

Cassidhe shook her head. “Not really. The closest I’ve gotten are impressions while I’m sleeping and memories of how I felt at the time. I wasn’t scared at all. The feelings of being safe and warm and cared for are what I remember the most.”

Solas’ chest tightened with an unidentifiable emotion as his vision started to swim before his eyes. The figment of a memory prodded at the back of his mind, then faded just as quickly. He shook his head, shaking loose the lingering webs of feelings he couldn’t identify.

“That’s certainly an interesting tale…” His hand fell away from her shoulder as his gaze slide back up to her face.

His breath caught in his throat. Beneath the light of the full moon everything was illuminated. Cassidhe included. Solas was not immune to the draw of the physical world. He’d had his share of lovers both in life and in the fade and had his share of experience. Yet, with the Herald, he found himself experiencing feelings he’d felt once before as a young man. Excitement. Awe. And desire. But there was something else there as well. Something new. Something just beneath the surface.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My butchered attempt at Dalish
> 
> Thu garem: what happened
> 
> Babaela: Grandfather
> 
> Fen Esha’lin: Wolf child/kin


	3. Tears and Memories of Hands

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The night after the events at Redcliffe.

“No, but seriously. Why do you call her ‘Cat’?” Sera tilted her head and scrunched her nose as she looked to Varric or the flames of the campfire for answers.

Varric laughed, his smile wide and laugh just as animated. “Because I tried calling her ‘kitten’ once and she damn near shot me with her bow!”

Solas smiled at the familiar banter from his usual spot in the shadows. Overall, it was the ideal end to an event filled day. All the current members making up what comprised the inner circle of the Inquisition, huddled together as they engaged in storytelling and the like in an attempt to return to some version of normal.

“Bugger you!” Sera scoffed in mock frustration. “I mean ‘Cat’ isn’t really the first name you think of when they hear ‘Cassidhe’. I mean it’s close, but not really. So why ‘Cat’?”

Varric drew in a dramatic breath, then leaned in. “Have you seen the way she moves?” He asked, his demeanor shifting from casual to storyteller almost seamlessly. “Cause I have. We spent enough time here in the Hinterlands for me to see the way she weaves her way through the trees and around rocks and boulders. Graceful and full of intent. I‘ve seen her hunt down both animals and bandits without flinching. All stealthy like.”

He paused for a moment, likely for effect, then continued. “I don’t know many Dalish hunters, but that girl reminds me of a damn bobcat. She might be small, but she’s careful and when she strikes, it’s deadly.”

Solas nodded his head without thought, his eyes scanning the group as he looked for the subject of discussion only to see she’d slinked away in the shadows at some point during the conversation.

He frowned as he also took his leave to go look for her. Something had been off since their encounter with Alexius. He wasn’t sure what it was entirely, but he had a feeling it had to do with whatever magic the Magister used to make both Cassidhe and Dorian disappear and reappear only moments later.

Once the whole ordeal was over and both Alexius and the Mages were dealt with, she’d gone noticeably silent, her spirit lessened by whatever had happened in that short span of time. Which, according to Dorian, was a lot longer than it seemed. Solas wondered if they’d actually managed to slip through time.

Solas spotted Cassidhe seated deep in the shadows, far from the liveliness of the camp. Unlike most times when he found her staring up into the vast sky, this time she was folded in upon herself, her face buried in her knees. Small. She looked…small. Which was directly opposed to her usually appearance. Tiny though she was, Cassidhe often felt bigger than her elf body could handle.

He moved silently, not wanting to disturb her until he was sure of what he was walking in on, then paused when he saw her body shake and heard the quiet sobbing breaking though the night air. His frown deepened.

Solas was unsure of himself and how to approach her, or even if he should. He understood too well the need to be alone at times like this. But her sobbing was wretched and felt wrenched from deep within her soul. How long had they been traveling companions now? Months? With everything thrust upon her since the conclave explosion, he’d expected her to come to this sooner. And maybe she had and it’d just gone unnoticed until now. But to see her in this state after everything they’d gone through, it tore at his heart unexpectedly.

“Are you alright?” The question left his mouth before he’d even thought to ask it or to even think if he _should_ ask.

Cassidhe’s head napped up, tears glistened on her cheeks, refracting the light of the pale moon. Her eyes were wide as her gaze immediately sought him out in the dark.

“Solas.” His name fell from her lips like a sigh. She moved quickly, scrubbing a hand at her face. Like she’d forgotten he was also an elf and could see just as well at night as she could. “Did you need something?”

She ignored his question, possibly in the hope he’d leave her be and move along, but that wasn’t going to happen.

“Something’s upset you. What is it?”

She shook her head and glanced away, her voice hoarse as she spoke. “It’s nothing. I’m fine.”

“Something happened.” He pressed. “Back when Alexius threw that spell.”

Her head snapped back in his direction, surprise clearly marked on her face. “N-no. I mean, it was--”

Her mouth trembled as she tried to speak. The words she wanted to say failed to form on her lips and the only way she could stop her voice from shaking was to just stop talking. Solas moved to her side and touched a hand lightly to her shoulder.

“It’s okay.”

The words left his mouth, his intention unclear, but comforting. Her face struggled into a frown, grief clearly written upon it as tears bubbled up to the surface and spilled down her cheeks. The brief moment of silence was full of unvoiced emotions, then filled with her heavy sobs.

In that moment, Solas couldn’t stop himself as he gathered her up into his arms and embraced her firmly. His heart twisted terribly. When was the last time he’d held someone like this? He couldn’t remember. His arms tightened around her shoulders, drawing her in closer in an attempt to still their trembling.

Then his heart lurched, catching in his throat when he felt her face pressed to his chest and her hands twisted his shirt like a child. It was familiar, in a way, but he couldn’t place it.


	4. A Moment of Lingering Animosity

The brief respite was taken when the dust finally settled and the Inquisition had taken it’s first breath. Everything was moving too fast, too soon. Unlike those around her, Cassidhe had yet to take a breather and assess where she was now compared to a week ago.

The Herald of Andraste. A title she had neither wanted nor earned, thrust upon her simply because she had the misfortune of being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Not that she actually remembered what happened. The loss of her memories in that brief window of time was the most damning thing, even if other’s didn’t see it that way.

She slipped through the front gates that morning without anyone noticing or stopping her before she got too far away. It was it’s own blessing, having this brief fragment of time to herself to just breathe and exist for once without worrying about anyone or anything else.

She even made sure to keep the breach to her back as she wandered so as to keep other thoughts at bay and actually enjoy her morning for once.

Cassidhe found a spot tucked away to the northeast of Haven. Sheltered by forest and rocks, it was the perfect place to just be for a little while. She took the time to dust off a low tree stump and took a seat. Once settled, she breathed in deep, her lungs expanding without the weight of anxiety on them, then exhaled. Gods, did it feel good!

“It’s good to see you out and about, Herald.”

“ _Fenedhis_!” The curse left her mouth before she could stop herself. Her head snapped to the side, her heart racing, when she spotted Solas not far behind her, leaning on his mage staff.

His amused chuckle prickled her ears and her cheeks warmed considerably. She prided herself on being one of the best hunters in her clan, and here she was taken off guard by a simple apostate mage with a proclivity to absolute silence when he moved.

“Did they give you the morning off?” He rounded her tree stump and came to stand before her.

She wilted slightly at his proximity and shrugged her shoulders. “Hard to say. I left before anyone could track me down.”

Cassidhe ducked her head and tucked her hair behind her ear in an effort to avoid his gaze. She didn’t particularly like being around him.

He laughed again, this time it was small and soft, a hint to the slight amusement he found in her. “So this is a getaway then?”

“Something like that.” She forced a slight smile as she glanced up at him, hoping the gesture belied the anxiety stirring in her chest.

Small. She felt small in his presence. Especially right then. The way he looked down on her, his stormy gaze seeming to mock her for everything she lacked. The enormity of his taller statue, taller than any other Dalish or city elf she’d encountered, pressed upon her.

Memories of the last time she spoke to Solas flashed through her mind.

_They are children acting out stories heard and repeated wrongly a thousand times._

She shook her head. Any claim to intelligence she clung too evaporated in the face of his vast knowledge. Everything she’d learned growing up seemed invalid now simply because Solas knew better.

Her forced smile faltered under rampant frustration, then fell away completely as she turned away from him again. Distance. She needed distance between him and her. As much as she could get. Cassidhe shifted on the tree stump, preparing to get up and leave without much suspicion. And failed completely.

Solas sighed, shifting his weight as he drew up to his full height. “Is something bothering you, Herald?”

His voice was full of concern she wasn’t sure was actually there. She bristled as the title bestowed on her left his tongue. Why couldn’t anyone use her damn name? She didn’t answer him as she stood swiftly and kept him at her back instead of looking at him. She thought about just leaving him there, but decided she was better than that.

_Better than him._

Cassidhe sighed and turned slowly towards him. She needed to be the bigger person here. If only just for herself. Her pride as a Dalish demanded it, but she wondered if it was at all necessary to cling so tightly to that identity.

“Cassidhe.” A puzzled expression quickly fell over his face, and she augmented. “Cassidhe is my name. Not Herald. Not _‘Your Worship’_. Cassidhe. I would appreciate it if you would use it.”

“Ah.” The noise was barely audible before he started to say her name, letting the syllables roll off his tongue. “ _Cassidhe_. That’s not exactly a Dalish name. The hard ‘k’ is not native to our tongue. How did you come to have such a name?”

Cassidhe tensed with the loaded question. She could explain like she had many times before. She could. But the damn apostate seemed to like goading her and she wasn’t about to step into that trap like she had before.

She shrugged her shoulders again. “Not all Dalish are the backwards isolationist you seem to think they are, _Solas_.” His name roll off her tongue like hers had rolled off his before. “But I wouldn’t expect someone _like you_ to understand that.”

She didn’t miss the look of shame flashing quickly over his face, but also didn’t care to linger to see what that meant exactly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fenedhis - Dalish curse meaning wolf dick


	5. Unexpected

She always felt so fleeting. Even sitting right next to her, it felt like she was a million miles away. The Herald of Andraste was an enigma beyond the anchor that some how ended up mysteriously on her hand. She was not grounded in the present, her eyes flitting back and forth as her thoughts carried her away once more as he talked about the intricacies of spell weaving.

Granted magic wasn’t for everyone, especially one not gifted in it’s use. Cassidhe certainly wasn’t, but her thirst for knowledge was tangible. Even if she couldn’t manipulate magic like he could, she had no trouble grasping the concepts of it. So it wasn’t boredom that stole her attention from him. It was something else.

Frustrated, he reached over and grabbed her hand, anchoring her back to reality. To him. There was unspoken fear deep inside of him that if he let her, she’d disappear. Her gaze, which had been unfocused before, suddenly focused on him in surprise.

“Solas?” She was wonderfully breathless as she looked him. Her eyes questioning his sudden need to touch her. It didn’t happen often and when it did a current seemed to pass between them.

He leaned forward, letting the current pull him in, his lips grazing hers, parting, then coming together again, pressing firmly. His heart raced with the contact, his stomach twisting in knots. He continued to kiss her, pulling her body into his. There was no hesitation on her part, her hands coming automatically to his chest, then sliding up to rest on his shoulders.

She returned the fervor of his kisses, her body turning to the side, then falling back on the large sofa they occupied in her room, urging him down with her.

“ _Vhenan_.” The endearment left his lips as he followed her down, his body weighing heavily on her own.

He kissed her again. Once. Twice. Three times. Her lips parted as a strangled sound of frustration found purchase in her throat. He took full advantage of the moment, slipping his tongue into her mouth, sliding it against her own. The air crackled with their desire, excitement twisting in his gut as her leg snaked up hip and then around his waist, pulling him down into the cradle of her pelvis.

His breath hissed out between his teeth as they connected. “ _Cassidhe…_ ” Her name was little more than a whisper as he tried to disengaged from her. His breathing heavy as he struggled to regain what little sense he had left.

He rested his forehead against hers, his eyes pinched shut as he forced the words out of his mouth. “We should stop.”

Her disappointment was obvious, but she nodded her head in acknowledgement. They’d had many encounters like this before. She never pushed him and for that he was thankful. That never stopped her from tempting him though. Whether intentionally or not.

He still throbbed for her even as he moved to sit up. Desire for her was not a problem he’d ever face. Everything she did ensnared and entangled him. A laugh escaped his lips at the look of pure frustration on her face.

“You’re a tease, you know that.” She accused him playfully. “You can’t go around kissing people like that. It’s not fair when you stop.”

“Sorry, my love.” He knew more often than not he was the one who instigated moments like this. He wondered if she’d ever get tired of his apologizes. He drew in a deep breath and released it. “As an aside, you are the only one I ‘go around kissing like that’.”

A shy smile touched her lips as a soft laugh lifted in the air around them. “So you’ve _never_ kissed only like that before?” She didn’t believe him.

“ _Never_.” The truth never more clear or unexpected than right then.


	6. Two Years Later

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This takes place during Trespasser DLC. Anything taking place during or after Trespasser will be labeled as such and will take place in linear order while sprinkled between the non-linear story. Comments, Questions, and Critiques are welcomed.

Two years passed and he was still the first thing she thought about when waking and the last thing she thought about before falling asleep. Two years and it still felt as fresh as the day he left. No warning and no goodbye. The worst part was knowing it was going to happen and then watching it play out after Corypheus’ defeat.

What should’ve been a time full of celebration and relief, was less so when she realized Solas was gone. Not that anyone noticed. Not that she wanted anyone to notice. It was easier to plaster on a smile and pretend it didn’t matter. He’d broken her heart weeks before hand. What did she care if he was missing?

Except she cared more than she wanted too.

Memories had a habit of playing out as time passed. Days into weeks. Weeks into months. Even in her dreams she saw him. Figments. Passing moments that seemed more like ghosts than tangible things upon waking. Feelings of joy were so fleeting and the burden of pain when she woke up to find it hadn’t been real. She couldn’t even recall what had her so elated, only that it wasn’t there in the morning.

Part of her wondered if he was visiting her in her dreams, but quickly dismissed the notion. Where ever he was, what ever he was doing, he was beyond her now. He’d left her that night in Crestwood before he left everyone else.

Cassidhe sighed. He was still in her thoughts now, standing just outside the gates of the Winter Palace. She’d already gone through the tedious and nerve-wracking procession just to get there. Two years later and she still wasn’t used to the pomp and circumstance that went along with the title of Inquisitor.

On more than one occasion she felt the need to sneak out in the dead of night, never to be seen again, but there was always this voice in the back of her head whispering. _Joke as you will, posturing is necessary_.

Sadness welled up inside of her, but she pushed it back down with a practiced smile. Josephine told her everyone was here for the Exalted Council. Though she was excited to see their familiar faces, she knew everyone of them would remind her _he_ wasn’t there.

Two years later and the look on his face the last time she saw, the look of sadness and regret so heavy it burdened his shoulders like nothing before, continued to color her vision as she stepped through the gates with her back straight and her head high.


	7. Dalish Girls and Unintended Consequences

It was her eyes that caught his attention first. Dull, unremarkable green eyes. They felt familiar to him. Like he’d seen them a million times in the faces of the people he’d met in the year after waking up from his long slumber. That’s what he wanted to believe. But he knew there was something different about those eyes peering at him from across the room.

He was hidden in the shadows as Seeker Pentaghast’s people tied the only survivor of the Conclave explosion to a chair. By all accounts she shouldn’t be able to see him as the light of the torches didn’t reach to his dark corner of the room. But the way her gaze fastened on him immediately told him otherwise.

It befuddled him to see a survivor treated in such a manner. The thin silvery-blue lines of her Vallaslin spoke greatly of her heritage. Dalish. He was unfamiliar with the design style, so she was likely from a Dalish clan he was unfamiliar with.

Solas shifted from his corner as Seeker Pentaghast came into the room, motioning him forward with a quick flick of her head.

“Is there a reason the only survivor is tied to a chair, Seeker?” He’d only heard the commotion from the girl’s arrival and had yet to hear anything official from the ones in charge. If what they said was true, he could only imagine what that meant.

“The ones who brought her in said they saw her step out of the fade with their own eyes and collapse on the ground, unconscious.”

Solas’ eyes widened in disbelief. His gaze shifted from the Seeker to the prisoner. So it was true. “Surely this doesn’t warrant such treatment?”

As soon as the question left his mouth, however, a bright green light and loud crackle interrupted them, along with the pained screams of the girl as she twisted around in the chair, nearly knocking it over as she struggled to cradle her hand in a futile effort.

The anchor. She has his anchor.

“That’s why.” Brow furrowed, frown pressed down deep into the Seeker’s cheeks as her gaze shifted over to Solas, serious in her consideration of him. “I’ve never seen magic like that, Apostate. If you have, tell me now.”

For the first time in a long time, Solas struggled to form a coherent sentence. Luckily, his fight for words was taken as something completely different from what it was.

“I’ll take that as a ‘no’.” She turned her attention back to the prisoner and some how managed to frown ever more, her whole face seeming to contribute to the effort.

“I don’t think keeping her in the chair is a good idea.” Sister Nightingale said as she stepped into the room. “She’s unconscious and no real threat to anyone.”

“But the mark--” the Seeker started to argue.

“Hasn’t hurt anyone yet.” the Sister stopped and turned her attention towards the prisoner. “Save for the one who bears it. We should make up a pallet and have the apostate take a look at her hand and see what he thinks.”

Solas felt the pull of their gazes on him and nodded his head. “I’ll see what I can do.”

 

***

 

Three days later and Solas had done all he could for the Dalish girl. He stemmed the flow of magic as best he could, but the anchor continued to grow along with the breach in the sky. He cursed himself for being so powerless. There was no denying it, at least to himself. This was his fault.

The girl, on the other hand, had recovered enough for Seeker Cassandra to throw her back in restraints in the off chance she was more dangerous than she appeared. Solas sighed from his seat in the tavern. The soup broth that was his dinner sat in front of him cooling more than was necessary.

A heavy dose of guilt clawed at his stomach, making eating anything at this point near impossible. His attention turned outwards when a bowl similar to his dropped on the table and the chair across from him scraped the ground as it was pulled out. A familiar compact figure hefted himself into the seat with a great sigh.

“You’d think we’d get more than simple broth for dinner at this point.” Varric Tethras, the only other prisoner at Haven, grabbed for a roll from the basket Solas’ server left earlier along with his…soup. “You don’t mind, do you? They ran out of bread already and you never eat yours anyways.”

Solas motioned for him to go ahead. “Be my guest.”

Master Tethras broke the roll in half and dunked in his broth. “So that girl they brought in…” He started. Most likely to get a handle on the situation in Haven. So few people knew what true and what was hearsay. Solas happened to be one of the few people who actually knew what was going on. “How is she doing?”

Solas forced himself to eat some of the cooled broth before answering Varric’s question. “Stable for now. Magic like this can be entirely unpredictable.”

Varric scoffed. “Mostly because no one knows what it is exactly.”

Their conversation came to a halt when they both heard a commotion stirring outside. It started with one person shouting, then another. Then there was the sound of thunder and crashing, followed soon after with screaming off in the distance. Everyone in the tavern was silent, waiting. Then the door to the front crashed opened admitting the commander recruited by Seeker Cassandra, one Cullen Rutherford.

“Demons!” He shouted, his gaze sweeping over the occupied room. “Every abled body to arms!”

At first there wasn’t a single person who moved, then everyone started moving all at once. Varric sighed, pushing his bowl of broth away and slid from his chair. “Let’s go, Chuckles. I suspect neither of us are going to talk our way out of this.”

Solas nodded his head and followed suit. Varric headed for his tent and Solas to his cabin to gather their respective gear. They met just outside the blacksmith’s shop and headed out with the others, their gazes never straying far from the swirl of green and flashes of lightning.

 

  
The Breach had slowed in it’s expansion, but, not unlike the anchor on the Dalish girl’s hand, it was still slowly getting bigger. Originally the rifts had been confined to immediate area around the conclave and it’s explosion, along with the debris falling from the hole in the sky. The last three days saw both the breach and the area of effect expanding. More and more men were being sent up the pass and fighting on the front lines against the influx of demons as they slipped through rifts.

This time the rifts seemed to have expanded past the forward camp established soon after the explosion. They encountered demons shortly after leaving the shelter of Haven. A Fade bomb, a name Varric quickly came up with when they first encountered the phenomenon, exploded not far from them, a demon springing out of the sickly green mess that boiled on the ground as soon as it made contact.

It wasn’t the first they encountered, nor the last. Luckily, these weren’t like the rifts. The mess they made quickly disappeared as soon as demons were borne from their depths. Meaning they quickly dispatched them and moved on.

The biggest problem were the rifts now forming closer to Haven. Too close, if anyone was at all honest. The fighting was on going as soon as they reached the first rift, demons spilling out and over running the soldiers who had initially volunteered to keep the peace during the peace talks.

Solas shook his head as he watched them fight and fall for what was essentially a miscalculation on his part. The only real hope anyone of them had was the slip of a girl back in haven. Whether she was up for the challenge remained to be seen. Was she strong enough to bear his mark, let alone use it?

He wielded his staff almost without thinking, his mind racing as he fought demon after demon. He’d briefly considered running as he tried to and failed to remove the mark from the Girl’s hand. He wasn’t strong enough to take the burden from her. She was their only real chance to stop this.

His mind, turned inwards, suddenly turned outward when the demon he’d been fighting took an arrow to it’s head then disappeared; the rift sucking it back into it’s depths. His gaze turned to the side and saw the flash of red hair running past him and the glint of a well concealed dagger before it soared through the air and sank into the back of another demon.

It’s unearthly scream reached his ears as it also disintegrated. His gaze followed her as she slipped through the group, her efforts helping to dispatch the demons one after another. She certainly was a skilled fighter. He shouldn’t be surprised, the Dalish were known for their hunting prowess; but he was.

As soon as the last demon was gone, he approached her and grabbed her wrist, thrusting it up at the rift. “Hurry! Before more come through!” He felt the familiar power surge through her hand, heard the song of his magic and the crack of air as the rift closed.

A smile touched his lips in triumph. It worked! He turned to the girl, his gaze catching on her wide green eyes. Unremarkable in their coloring, but something about them seemed deeper. Unfathomable. And right then he felt the whole world change.


	8. Ir Abelas

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was a product of having read The Masked Empire. This also changed the trajectory of my ever evolving story, giving it a new direction post-trespasser. Foreshadowing for the win!

Somehow Cassidhe managed to find a quite spot in the Crossroads to sit and think to herself. It was a little over a month since the Inquisition had been established. A little over a month since her entire world changed from the tiny world of her clan in the Free Marches and the simplistic needs of the Dalish, expanding to the entire breadth that was the whole of Thedas and all the problems that entailed.

Which meant talking to Sister Giselle about gaining Chantry support for their Inquisition. Cassidhe baulked inwardly at the mere idea. As a principal the Dalish didn’t trust the Chantry, seeing them as the face of the Shemlen they loathed so much. Yet, here she was. But she wasn’t just Dalish anymore and her own prejudices needed to be pushed aside to save the whole of Thedas, if not the world.

Lucky for her, Sister Giselle was easier to deal with than Roderick. That man seemed determined to blame her for everything. She wasn’t sure if it was because she was an elf or simply because he needed someone to blame. Part of her pitied him, even if he was an ass.

Her attention turned outwards when she heard the sound of quiet feet moving behind her and turned to see the last person she wanted to be alone with.

“ _Solas._ ” She couldn’t help the iciness that edged her voice. She’d done well to not be alone with him since that time in Haven. She didn’t have it in her to defend herself against his accusations.

She’d remembered her initial eagerness to speak with a fellow elf not from the Dalish and how quickly he’d doused her curiosity with his cynicism. She prepared herself for his pointed words as he drew closer to her.

“It seems you’ve found the one quiet spot in the whole area.” He came to a stop next to her, then lowered himself gingerly. He was being cautious of her. Which meant he wasn’t ignorant of her feelings. _Good_. She wanted him to be on guard.

He looked out quietly, his stormy gaze taking in the whole area and the people buzzing about beneath them. A few minutes passed without either of them saying a word, leaving Cassidhe feeling all too anxious for her own good. She didn’t want him to be there. It felt like he was the voice to the thoughts slowly growing inside of herself. The doubts and contradictions to all the things she learned growing up.

“You’ve been avoiding me these past few weeks, Her--no, sorry, _Cassidhe_.” This wasn’t an accusation. There was no bite to his words, only a tinge of sorrowfulness mixing with his voice as he continued. “ _Ir abelas, Lethallan_.”

That had her ears perking right up. She turned her head slowly, her eyes wide as she looked at him in surprise. “I’m sorry, what?”  
A touch of pink seemed to color his pale cheeks, but that wasn’t right, was it? _Solas didn’t blush_. The guy was near invulnerable as far as she could tell. Except there he was apologizing to her out of the blue. After weeks of not engaging her directly about anything but Inquisition business. Maybe she was wrong though and he’d actually done something since then to apologize for.

The surprise melted away from her face as she prepared for just such a thing. Best not to get her hopes up. Solas, on the other hand, refused to look directly at her as he drew in a steadying breath and continued with whatever speech he’d prepared before hand. Some part of her, deep down inside, laughed at the idea of him actually _needing_ to prepare a speech before hand. It didn’t fit the image she had of him in her head in any sort.

“I have not been fair to you in these past few weeks. My…” He paused, seeming to struggle as he tried to form the word with his lips. “ _arrogance_ …seems to have put you off.” He paused again. He didn’t seem to like that word. Especially when referring to himself. “I didn’t mean to offend you, only to speak my mind on the matter. I fear I may have done so a bit forcefully.”

“I-I…ummm…” Cassidhe struggled to speak as she simultaneously struggled to wrap her head around what just happened. Finally she settled on pursing her lips tight and humming as she processed this unexpected and awkward moment.

He was owning up to his part of their argument and it was only fitting that she do the same. Neither of them had been completely right or wrong in their opinions, only two people with differing points of view. Which is why he wasn’t apologizing in what he said, only in how he presented it at the time.

She sighed, turning her gaze back to the Crossroads below. “ _Ir abelas, Lethallin_.” The words were softly spoken as they left her lips in return. “We were both a bit heated in our exchange. I should’ve been more open to criticisms, instead of out right defensive. I hope any further exchanges are more productive in the future.”

Cassidhe felt diplomatic in her apology. Something she was slowly becoming more skilled in as her time with Inquisition continued. Oddly enough, it seemed to clear the air between them. Giving her a chance to seek out some much needed advise. Usually she’d seek out Keeper Deshanna for such a thing, but she hadn’t exactly been in contact with her since the Conclave explosion.

Not that Deshanna would have the best advice for her current situation. Solas, on the other hand, seemed to be in the perfect position and the right frame of mind to be unbiased in giving it. Surprisingly.

She drew in a breath, steadying her nerves, then spoke. “Do you think speaking with the Chantry in Val Royeaux is a good idea?”

Solas didn’t speak for several seconds, then broke the pervading silence as he voiced his thoughts. “I don’t think it could hurt.”

Cassidhe started to speak, voicing her reluctance, but Solas held up his hand to silence her as he continued. “The Chantry is an organization made up of many people and many minds. Not all minds think the same and, it’s become clear with the Mage and Templar War that even long established organizations like the Chantry aren’t all of the same mind. People will always have their own opinions on things. It wouldn’t hurt to see how many of these differing minds we can sway to our cause.”

Cassidhe fell silent as she considered his words. It was similar to what Sister Giselle had said, except, coming from the lips of one of her own people. Guilt twisted in her gut. The glaring reality of her own prejudices staring her in the face. A reminder that she wasn’t infallible. No one was.

She nodded her head and moved to come to her feet. “We should see what we can do for the refugees while we’re here. Then we’ll go to Val Royeaux and speak with the Chantry.”

Solas nodded his head as he too came to his feet. Cassidhe turned to him when he was at his full height and bowed her head at him. “ _Ma serannas, Ha’hren_.”

Momentary surprise touched his eyes, then a smile as he bowed his head in return. “ _Mar vhalla, Da’len_.”

 

***

  
Solas let out a long, slow breath as he watched Cassidhe make her way back down to the Crossroads. Most likely to tell the other two what their plans were. It had become increasingly obvious to him over the last few weeks that this lost Dalish girl would be the leader the Inquisition needed. He’d seen everyone in a position of power turn to her for decisions and advice.

And it wasn’t just because she bore the mark that closed the rifts. She had an aura around her that made approaching her, trusting her, so incredibly easy. Something he was not immune to it seemed.

Ever since their argument in the first week after the Inquisition was founded, he’d become aware of his misstep. She had his mark and was quickly gaining the trust of the Humans as the situation continued to unfold. He needed her to trust him and being at odds didn’t help the matter at all. He needed to regain the trust he’d broken with his careless words and get back into her good graces. Briefly, he recalled Felassan, his cherished friend, taking on the role of honored elder to achieve his ends. Then wondered why that same tactic wouldn’t work for him.

Indeed, Cassidhe seemed to already hold him in such a position if the tail-end of their conversation was any indication. She needed someone to guide her and he was in the position to offer such guidance.

Still though, there was a voice in the back of his reminding him that Felassan was dead for a reason. But he wasn’t Felassan. He didn’t have the luxury of getting overly close with the Herald of Andraste over a span of years. Something surely needed to build up such a trusted relationship.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ir abelas: I'm sorry  
> Lethallan/Lethallin: Casual reference used for someone with whom one is familiar  
> Ma serannas: my thanks  
> Mar vhalla: your welcome  
> Ha'hren: elder  
> da'len: child
> 
> Elvhen/Dalish transtlation are courtesy of different sources. The Dragon Age Wikia, Project Elvhen by FenXShiral, and the Elvhen DAI Translator.


	9. Kissing In The Fade

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I told myself I wouldn't publish the next chapter for another or at least until I had 500 hits on this story. I'm impatient though and I'm glade I got 500 hits after just 4 days. Enjoy! ^_^

He wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting when he brought Cassidhe into the Fade. Certainly not a kiss. Or so he tried to tell himself as the moment played through his mind over and over again. He touched a finger to his lips, tracing them as he laid there in his bed, his eyes closed as he remembered.

If he was at all honest, he’d hoped for…something. Too many things had happened recently for him to entirely ignore his feelings. Her proximity to him had a way of capturing his attention and making his heart race unexpectedly.

_“…and right then I felt the whole world change.”_

_She tilted her head at his choice of words, her lips turning up slightly at the corners as she moved slightly closer. “Felt the whole world change?”_

_His heart throbbed with her nearness, but still, he ignored it as he hurried to correct his phrasing. “A figure of speech.”_

_“I’m aware of the metaphor.” She moved even closer, slowly closing the distance between them._

_Impulses were harder to curb in the Fade without training. The unconscious mind always more willing when reality was not intruding. He knew this all too well. Some things were still easier for him to do in the Fade than others. Cassidhe seemed to have the same problem. What would usually amount to innocent flirting in waking life, became more bold in the Fade._

_“I’m more interest in felt.”_

_His heart pulsed with excitement as she came to stand before him. She was so close. Just within reach. “You change…everything.” He breathed out._

_"Sweet talker.”_

_Her voice was just a whisper and he had to look away. He felt too strongly and didn’t want to do anything he’d regret. But then her hand was on his chin, turning his face back towards her and her lips pressed against his. He barely had time to process the kiss before she pulled away, a look of instant regret falling over her face as she started to turn away. The impulse clearly something she hadn’t intended to act upon._

_He stopped her before she could move away from him, whatever restrain he’d been holding onto, now gone with just a taste of her. He wanted more. He pulled her in, his hands gripping onto her waist as he surged in for another kiss. His lips parted eagerly, his tongue delving into her mouth to taste her better._

_He barely restrained the moan pressing against the back of his throat as her left hand twined around his neck and held the back of his head. He pressed forward, bowing her back as he continued to kiss her. When he pulled away, the look on her face was amazing. All breathless with kiss swollen lips and cheeks flushed pink with her excitement. He moved in again, kissing her briefly, then pulled away as reason found traction once again._

Solas sighed, recalling the thrust of her tongue against his. The touch of her right hand at his side as he pulled her into him. Idiot. He was such an idiot. He should’ve seen this coming. Steeled himself against the rising emotions. The truth was he’d been ignoring his own feelings in the hope that they would pass. This wasn’t a mere infatuation. His feelings for Cassidhe encompassed more than just primal desire or simple attraction.

She engaged him in ways no one else did or ever had. At least not for a very long time. She aroused him in so many ways. This was something more. So much more.

He groaned as he moved to sit up. His body wanted to rest a bit more. Perhaps even reengage in the Fade in the hopes of finding her there again. But he suspected she was already on her way here to question him. And he needed to gather his wits about him before hand.


	10. Shades of Fen'Harel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter takes place 10 years prior to the formation of the Inquisition. TW: Attempted Rape. It's very brief, but it's there. I have added the tags to the list.

The baying of the wolves chased Cassidhe through the forest. She panted hard and ragged as she careened through the forest, dragging each breath from her lips in desperate gulps. Her legs moved faster than they ever had, her thighs burning with the effort as she crashed through the underbrush in a desperate attempt to escape her pursuers. There were two of them, maybe more, hot on her heels.

She cursed out loud, her mind firing rapidly as she tried to think her way through the problem, while simultaneously trying not to panic. She weaved her way past the thick trunks of old towering titans. The canopy overhead thick and dark, casting the forest in a shadowy dusk even though it was only midmorning.

That’s why the Free Marches Dalish preferred this forest for hunting. A dark forest was full of creatures and other curiosities, making it the prime spot for any young hunter hoping to earn the right for their vallaslin. It was practically a pilgrimage for the Lavellan.

That’s why she was there. At the age of sixteen she’d decide this was the year she would take on the rights of passage and earn her vallaslin. A whole two years earlier than normal, but not unheard of. She had something to prove, not just to the people of her clan, but herself as well.

Four of them had left the camp before dawn. They were to travel as a group for a distance, then split off into teams of two before finally making their way deep into maze of trees alone. Three days were allotted for the hunt.

They had made it fairly far into the wood when they heard the wolves off in the distance. Their long mournful howls bathed the dark woods with their songs. The swell of the foreboding calls sent shivers up her spine. Something was wrong.

She should’ve listened to her instincts. Apprehension and dread twisted in her stomach the further they drew into the forest. All of them felt it. It permeated the air like a miasma. None of them wanted to be the one to say it though. They were there to prove themselves after all.

The howling of the wolves seemed to crescendo as they stepped into the sort of clearing, The forest still save for the wolves still baying in the distance and their own racing heartbeats. Then it happened. The first shot came from behind; an arrow hummed past her right ear just as she dodged to the left.

_It was an ambush_. The Shemlen had been waiting for them. Like they knew the Dalish used that forest and what they used it for. How many other clans had fallen into the same trap? She could only guess.

The wolves continued to sing. Her heart twisted painfully, her thoughts hounded her as much as the Shemlen chasing her. The wolves had been warning them. She was sure of it. Though she didn’t know why she knew. She stumbled, her foot catching on a twist of exposed tree root. She flew forward, flinging her hands out as she caught herself and pushed back to her feet as fast as she could.

The sounds of the forest were muted by the thundering of her heart and the ragged gulping as she tried to keep her breath within her. The wolves suddenly went quiet; only the shouts of the Shemlen chasing her and, distantly, someone screaming.

A sob bubbled up in her chest, real fear clawed at her. Somehow she managed to swallow it down and continue forward. That’s when the wolves started baying again. Closer than before. A chill worked up her spine, then across her skin. They were in pursuit. Or something was. She could feel it.

Cassidhe stumbled again, this time her knees scraped on the ground, rocks and twigs cutting into her hands. The heavy fall of the Shem footsteps slowed from behind, but continued to gain on her. She tried to struggle to her feet and keep going, but her legs refused to heed her desperate pleas. At this point they felt more like spindly elfroot stems than actual legs.

The tears she’d been holding back, welled up inside of her when she heard the grating of feet across the ground just behind her.

“Well, well, look what we have here.” The voice, though rough, slithered against her senses like putrid grease. “Looks like we got ourselves pretty little knife-ear.”

She clawed her way forward, desperately praying to _Andruil_ for a second wind to escape.

_The Dread Wolf would surely be better suited for such a plea._

Cassidhe paused briefly at the stray thought. Not even sure why it occurred to her right then. She thought of _Fen’Harel_ and the Tree and his proclivity for escape when the odds were against him.

The scrape of a second set of footsteps on the ground drew her from her thoughts. “Looks like the bitch is giving up.” A different voice said behind. Her heart pounded in her chest when someone grabbed her leg and yanked her backwards. “You’re really fucking pretty for a forest dweller.”

She closed her eyes, her prayers now aimed at anyone as she twisted her body in an attempt to shake off her attacker, her legs kicking back desperately, against the firm hand grasped tight to her ankle.

“Ah, yeah! That’s what we like.” A satisfied laughter spilled out above her. “Keep struggling girlie. It makes it more fun when we finally break you.”

Someone else grabbed her wrists as she continued to twist and kick. Lifted her high in the air and stretched her out before settling her across the ground. “Think we can get in a quickie before taking her back to camp? I don’t think the boss will notice.”

A white hot terror sliced through her when she heard the rustling of clothes and the sinister laugh. She struggled harder; a cold sweat breaking out on her brow thrashed both her arms and legs.

“Hold her tighter so I can slip between her legs.”

The sobs she’d been holding back all this time, leaked out from between her lips. Then a low, menacing growl cut through the air. Both men stopped, their attention drawn to the sound.

“What was that?” One of them asked. Their grips tightened on both her wrists and ankles.

“Do you think it’s them wolves? They’ve been making a racket for a while now.”

Both of them fell silent, the growling continued, growing louder and more menacing. Then she heard movement in the underbrush and both men gasped out in fear.

_Don’t look._

The warning flashed through her head right before both men shrieked out in fear, a vicious snarling cutting them off abruptly. She wasn’t sure when they released her. The sounds of agonized screaming rang in her ears along with the sound of wet ripping. Then the whole forest went silent.

The sharp scent of blood assaulted her nostrils, pungent and thick and fresh. She waited in the permeating silence, gathered her courage as she opened her eyes and scanned her immediate surroundings. Her breath caught in her throat when she saw him. He stood, hulking over the gruesome remains of her attackers, head and shoulders above the other wolves edging the perimeter of the area. His coat was thick and blacker than pitch. His eyes glowed red in the shadowed forest. Six of them in total, three on each side.

His ears perked up as she shifted on the ground, his head turning until she was locked in his gaze. White-hot terror is what she should be feeling, instead all she felt was a sense of deja vu. She knew him. He turned slowly towards her, his body morphing from the monstrous beast down to the size of a normal wolf. The six glowing eyes, merging into two, stormy blue in color.

He edged closer to her, his head bowed submissively. A soft whine peeled from his throat. Cassidhe sat up slowly, matching his caution so neither of them startled the other. He took a seat a few feet in front of her, then lowered himself until he laid with his head between his paws, his eyes glancing over her.

“ _Fen’Harel_.” The name slipped from her lips in a breathy sigh.

His head tilted to the side, then he edged closer, his bushy black tail wagged back and forth as he whined playfully at her. He reached out with his paw, gingerly prodding at her banged up knee.

A stream of images washed over her.

_Her parents. Herself, much smaller. Crying. The soft touch of a wolf’s muzzle. Reassuring. The warmth of fur surrounding her. The call of her_ babala _in the distance. The reluctance of the child fisting his fur in their hands. His own reluctance to let them go. A great welling sadness deep inside as he watched both them go, leaving him behind._

Tears streamed down Cassidhe’s cheeks. “You. You’re the one who saved me.” Her grandfather never said, but then again, did he even know? She had her suspicions, but they were soon forgotten as the powerful beast that had been prostrated in front of her now pressed his head into her neck in greeting.

She lurched backwards, nearly falling back on the ground, but steeled herself soon enough. Her arms wrapped around the scruff of his neck automatically, hugging him in as much of an effort to stay upright as it was a sign of bewildered affection.

The unexpected embrace continued until Cassidhe heard the sounds of distant shouting. It was Shalelan, the warleader. The wolf’s ears twitched and turned towards the sound. A soft whine emanated from his throat as he slowly pulled himself from her arms. He paused briefly, his gaze connecting with hers then darted away, his body fading as he dove into the under brush.

She moved to stand, checking over herself before glancing back where _Fen’Harel_ had disappeared into the forest, wondering if it really had been him.

Just as the thought passed through her mind, she saw the silhouette of a shadow, far enough away to be mistaken for a mere shadow of the forest, but Cassidhe felt it was more than that. For it wasn’t a wolf’s silhouette she saw, but that of man’s. In her mind there was the impression of long, wild hair and robes suited for man who lived his life deep in the forest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Babala: Grandfather


End file.
